A Writer's Wonderland [PDF] - University of Portsmouth

Joe Gibbs
Second year Creative Writing and English student.
Good Morning
As a crack of thunder pierces the blackness, my eyelids
peel apart sticky, gritty. Blinking the confusion and exhaustion out of my eyeballs I stare up at
awful grey sky, at misty rain and black clouds. I pull myself – no, force myself up into a sitting
position and as I do my scrambled brains rock forward and bash into the front of my skull, rattle
there for a few seconds and then settle in a seeping, heavy mush. A hoarse cry escapes my
parched lips as a terrific pain lances into my right eye, deep into my head and out of the other
side, like someone has their thumbs in the socket and is trying to wrench the thing apart.
Gingerly, I ease my legs over the side of the bench and plant my bare feet onto wet concrete.
After a minute or so hunched like this, counting down from a number that I can’t even
remember to fight the mounting nausea with splintered breaths, light hazy rain begins to
penetrate my ripped t-shirt. There are drops of blood on the white fabric.
Freezing cold and my shoes robbed – fantastic start to the day, son. T-shirt. Christ,
where is my jacket?
My jacket cost all of last week’s pay cheque – that only a few hours ago had my keys,
wallet and phone resting in the nice, safe zipper pockets. I can’t help but grin at the irony. Then
I stop grinning because it feels strange. An inspection with my tongue tells me that I am missing
a lot more than my keys, wallet and phone, as it jabs at a section of bloody-tasting gum; an
empty section of bloody-tasting gum, a space that before I woke up housed the teeth on the left
half of my mouth.
Jesus Christ on a bike, what happened last night?
I know I was with Frank - not because I remember being with him, but because it had
been arranged all week. He was back for the night, his outfit docking in Portsmouth. Trying to
ignore the fierce pain in my head, eyes and now my mouth, I notice my hands for the first time.
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